


if you love me, don't let go

by stoletheshow



Series: unconditionally [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, listen i don't know what i'm doing, not really as sad as these tags make it seem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9347402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoletheshow/pseuds/stoletheshow
Summary: If Patrick’s being honest with himself, he thought his days of crying alone in bathrooms were over.But alas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling depressed so decided to write this fic @ 1am. enjoy? The title is from X Ambassadors' song "Unsteady". This is technically my 2nd fic but I deleted the first one so. Comments and critiques are much appreciated.

If Patrick’s being honest with himself, he thought his days of crying alone in bathrooms were over.

But alas.

He’s sitting on Jonny’s bathroom floor, back against the bathtub, clutching at his heart trying to make sure it’s not actually beating out of his chest. Its—he can’t get enough air in, he can’t breathe, it’s too much too much too much, he feels too big for his own skin, he can’t…  
The knock on the door startles him, too loud too loud too—

“—trick? Patrick?” Jonny’s voice draws Pat back to himself for a second before he’s falling again. He’s falling and he’s drowning and…

Pat starts dragging his nails roughly over the soft skin of his forearms, his wrists, he just needs to make sure, to be sure… Is he still alive?

The sharp sting is almost enough to shift Pat’s focus before Jonny grabs a wrist in each hand, holding on tight.

Patrick jerks away because he doesn’t want Jonny to see him right now, to touch him, there’s not enough room in this bathroom there’s no space and he can’t fucking breathe. But Jonny just holds tight before placing one of Pat’s trembling hands on his chest.

“With me, Pat. Breathe with me, come on,” he takes a deep, purposeful breath in, then out, then in, then out until Pat follows his lead. Patrick tries to keep up, but his breaths keep shuddering, getting caught in his throat and then he’s choking again as Jonny’s voice gets further and further away.

He’s not sure how long he sits on Jonny’s bathroom floor, shaking and crying, before the panic gives way to something less all-consuming.

He’s left feeling weak and exhausted, like he’s just gotten over the flu, legs giving out when Jonny tries to help him stand up. He doesn’t even remember taking the steps to get there, but next thing he knows, he’s in Jonny’s bed. He’s vaguely aware of Jonny taking off Pat’s shoes and socks before removing his own and spooning up behind him.

“You’re okay now, Pat.” Jonny keeps repeating, voice low, like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

Patrick doesn’t really feel okay. He feels drained, tired. So he lets Jonny’s monotone lull him to sleep.

**

He wakes up some indeterminate amount of time later to an empty bed, feeling embarrassed. After a quick shower – which he hopes will make him feel less like he wants to crawl out of his skin – Pat heads out to look for Jonny.

Jon’s in the kitchen fucking around with the blender when Pat finds him. He’s wearing jeans and a soft sweater, looking domestic as hell and Patrick really loves him.

When he sees Pat, Jonny opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but Patrick beats him to it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He knows he sounds stubborn but that’s because he is. Jonny rolls his eyes.

“Patrick, you have to—“

“Not now.” Patrick cuts him off again, pleads. “Just… make me forget for a while. I need it.”

Jonny’s eyes darken in understanding. He nods, already slipping into the role Patrick needs him to take.

“I hear you, Pat.” He motions for Pat to follow him into the bedroom, smoothie forgotten.

**

Now, Patrick doesn’t let himself have this often, doesn’t let himself be taken care of. But Jonny knows how to get him out of his head, better than anyone else in the world, Pat thinks. Jonny’s the only one who can make him stop _thinking_ and relax.

“Gonna make you feel good.” Jonny says before he leans down to kiss Pat.

Jonny kisses him slowly at first, so soft, like he’s going to pull away. Pat surges forward, trying to deepen the kiss, taste more of Jonny, but Jonny just steadies him and gentles the kiss again, controlling the pace before pulling away. “Easy, Pat, c’mon, I’ve got you.”

And Pat knows. He knows that Jonny’s got him, that Jonny’ll get him where he needs to go. “Yeah, Jonny.”

Jonny takes his time wrecking him. Fucking his tongue in and out of Pat’s mouth until Patrick is hard in his sweats and panting for it.

“You want to get off now?” Jonny asks and Pat nods in a silent _yes, yes, yes_. “Then why don’t you rub off against me, huh?” Jonny slots his thigh between Pat’s legs, giving him something to grind against. “Go on.”

It’s hard and urgent, Jonny’s hands sliding down to his ass and holding tightly, helping to increase the friction. Patrick just rolls with it, presses his body against Jonny’s as much as he can. It feels so good, and he makes little sounds of pleasure against Jonny’s mouth as his pace gets faster and faster.

This is what he wanted, needed. All thoughts gone from his head so that all he can think about is _getting there_.

It’s not long before he has to break the kiss, panting heavily into Jon’s neck. “I’m gonna come.” He moans.

“Yeah, Pat.” Jonny practically growls, pulling Patrick tighter against him. “Come on. Do it.”

“Oh, _fuck_." Pat gasps as he drives his hips down hard, he spreads his thighs, trying to get as much contact as possible. He manages a few more desperate thrusts against Jonny’s thigh before he’s trembling against Jonny, hips jolting forward, then stilling, as he comes in his pants.

Jonny instinctively holds Pat tighter against him, brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead and kissing him through it.

**

Kissing Jonny is one of Patrick’s favorite things to do. It makes him feel wanted, and cherished, and hot. He thinks he could come just from Jonny’s tongue in his mouth.

“You’re hard again,” Jonny says some time later, sounding smug as all hell, and Pat nods because he is; isn’t sure that he ever went soft. Jonny pats his thigh.

“Come on, Pat, hands and knees.” He urges, and it takes some effort and maneuvering but Pat does as he’s told. Jonny puts a steadying hand on his hip “You good?”

“Mmmhmm.” Pat hums in agreeance and he’s immediately rewarded when Jonny begins kissing his way down Pat’s spine.

“Good. I want you to ride my tongue, okay? Take what you need.”

Jesus Christ. 

Pat moans when Jonny spreads his cheeks, cries out when Jonny’s tongue laps at his hole. 

Jonny eats ass like he does most things: with enthusiasm, and dedication, like he has to be the best at it. 

He plays Pat’s body like an instrument. Flattening and twisting his tongue in an effort to pull louder and louder moans out of him. Patrick’s body twitches almost violently when Jonny brings a hand down to massage his perineum. It’s so good—too good, and Jonny doesn’t let up. Keeps rubbing at the sensitive skin and tonguing Pat’s ass like he’s starving for it, while Patrick whines and keens into the pillows. Gripping the blankets for dear life.

Pat’s second orgasm catches him off guard. He didn’t even know he was close until he was _right there_ , and he’s helpless to do anything but cry out harshly as he comes, and slump forward onto the mattress, wet spot forgotten, as the aftershocks wrack his body. 

Pat sort of just _floats_ , after that. Not quite ready to come back to himself yet. Distantly, he’s aware of Jonny rubbing soothing hands over his back, the backs of his thighs, murmuring about how good Pat is for Jonny, how proud he is, but Pat can’t really focus on anything other than the roaring of his pulse in his own ears.

When he comes to, Pat blinks his eyes open to find Jonny on the bed next to him, lazily jerking himself off. He smirks when he sees Pat looking at him. “Gonna fuck you so good.” he says, sure as anything, and Patrick fucking whimpers. 

Fucking Jonny, man.

Jonny motions for him to roll over on his back, then situates himself between Pat’s legs, spreading them wide. He doesn’t waste too much time stretching Pat out, just slicks up his dick then he’s pushing into Pat, so slow, god, Patrick feels every inch of him, he’s so sensitive. 

When Jonny’s situated in deep, he gives them both a second to adjust before starting up a steady rhythm. It’s good – it’s so good to have Jonny’s body covering his like this.  


“That’s it, Pat. Taking my dick so good, like a fucking pro.” And Patrick preens at the praise. He wants to be good, loves being good for Jonny.

Jonny kisses him, slow and deep, completely unlike the way he’s fucking into Pat. Patrick’s brain can’t keep up. He has to pull away and turn his head to the side to pant into the pillow when Jonny’s dick brushes his prostate.  


His own dick is making a valiant effort to get hard again and Patrick stares down at it in betrayal. He’s not a teenager anymore, hasn’t come 3 times in a night in God knows how long – but if anyone can get him there, it’s Jonny.  


Jonny who’s currently fucking Pat like his life depends on it, and looking at him like he’s Jonny’s whole world. Or something.  


Pat has to look away. The raw emotion on Jonny’s face combined with the way Jonny’s fucking him is too much. He squeezes his eyes closed tight, but the tears come anyway.  


Jonny decides to up the ante by running his filthy mouth. “You’re gonna come again, aren’t you, Pat?” he asks, sounding awfully self-satisfied for a guy who’s probably twenty good thrusts away from busting a nut. “Yeah, you are.” He smirks down at Pat, and Patrick fucking hates that he finds that attractive. Jonny doesn’t let up. “You won’t be empty this time, though; got a nice, hard dick to clench down on now. Yeah, that what you need, baby?”  


“Oh fuck, Jonny” Pat’s head is swimming, he’s going to fucking come. Again. “I’m close.”  


“Yeah, Pat.” is all Jon says, but he brings one hand down to jerk Pat off slowly, almost softly. He must know how sensitive Patrick is. The gentle pressure is enough, though, and after about a dozen strokes Pat’s right at the edge.  


When he comes for the third time, the orgasm lights him up from head to toe. He practically _wails_ as wave after wave of pleasure so intense he almost can’t process it course through his body. Pat clings tight to Jonny, body twitching, nails digging into his skin, as the pleasure overwhelms him completely.  


Pat’s not sure how much time passes before he comes back to Earth, but when he does it’s to the sound of Jonny’s voice.  


“Christ, that was a strong one,” Jonny sounds _wrecked_ and Patrick grunts in response.

“Can I keep going?” Jonny asks and Patrick takes a second to think. He’s beyond sensitive at this point, every inch of him lit up, he feels raw, open, but he nods anyway. He can take it.

“I can take it.”

Jonny moans in appreciation and starts fucking Pat again, slower this time, and all Pat can do is hold on tight.

Pat knows Jonny’s close when his moans start getting higher in pitch, more desperate. It’s not long before Jonny cries out roughly and comes, filling Pat up and making him gasp.

For a long time, the two of them just lay there catching their breath. Jonny’s the first to break the silence.

“You ready to talk about it, yet?” Jonny asks, and, what the fuck?

“What the fuck? You’re literally still inside of me, Jonathan.”

Jonny laughs.

**

After a perfunctory shower, Jonny corners Patrick.  


“You gotta talk to me, Pat.”  


At this point, Patrick would honestly rather swallow glass, but this is _Jonny._ Jonny who’s looking at him with wide, earnest eyes, and Patrick relents.  


“It’s sorta like—“ Pat starts, then stops. There’s so much he wants to say but he has no idea how to say it. He flashes back to all the comments he read online – despite his better judgment – What everyone’s saying about him... There’s so much going on in his head he can’t even begin to explain to Jonny, not now at least, so he settles for the obvious. “I just want to play hockey.”  


It's not much to go on, but Jonny’s face softens, and he nods like he understands anyway, “I know.” He says gently.  


One day, they’ll talk about it. Really _talk_ about it. But for now, Patrick’s okay with just sitting here with Jonny; his presence a much-needed reminder that Patrick is so valued, so loved.  


Jonny takes Pat’s hand and squeezes, Pat squeezes back. He doesn’t plan on ever letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway that's it. thanks :)


End file.
